Strange Encounter
by fairiel
Summary: Reader is chilling out on the sofa when Peter Quill comes banging on her door.


11 pm. You've been working all day and now is the time to finally relax. You sit on the couch with a nice cup of tea and a piece of your favorite carrot cake, a book in your hand. As you curl on the cushions, trying to find a comfortable position, your dog comes and puts his head on your lap with a sigh. It's going to be a good and uneventful evening, exactly what you need. You start reading while sipping your tea, stroking your dog's head from times to times. Minutes pass when suddenly you hear a loud bang. Your neighbor has fired his rifle. Not again, you think, getting up to check things at the window. As you open the curtain, you hear another loud bang. Then there's the sound of commotion coming from the neighboring yard and you can see a shape running towards your house. The dog has started barking, guarding the door against any intrusion. You head back to the couch, thinking it probably was a deer or something but you hear banging on your door and the dog starts barking again. What now? Does your jerk of a neighbor want to apologize for all the fuss?

You open the door, ready with a sarcastic retort, but instead of your neighbor, there's a random guy in a red leather jacket and blue t-shirt holding his side.

"Excuse me?" is all you can come up with.

Surprisingly, the dog has stopped barking and is only standing there wagging its tail at the stranger.

"There's a mad guy who fired at me!" the man says with indignation.

Despite yourself, you smile. You know your neighbor very well and he has a tendency to shoot at everything, but it's nighttime and the guy was probably trespassing so why would he complain? True enough, his face doesn't look dangerous, he's even kinda cute, with messy hair and blue eyes, but he's got two guns hanging by his thighs that you don't quite know what to make of. They almost look fake, like the sort of guns you would see in a science fiction movie. You don't know if you should call the cops or not.

"I'm sorry about that" you finally say. "But I didn't catch your name. You are?"

Maybe eliciting his identity will give you time to think of what to do.

"Oh, sorry" the guy says. "My name is Peter Quill. Can you let me in?"

"And why would I do that?" you ask, ready to close the door if he steps inside.

He may be cute, but you don't know anything about him and he was trespassing on private property.

"Look, I don't know you" you continue. "I'm going to call the cops if you don't leave me alone."

"No, no, no, wait!" he exclaims, lifting his hand from his side.

You notice the blood on his palm and you frown. A bullet must have grazed him.

"Well, you can always go to the hospital, you know, unless you've done something illegal" you tell him, starting to close the door.

"Wait, no, it's not like that" he explains, not even trying to prevent you from shutting the door. "I was looking for something, a relic of some kind that is buried here and this dude comes out of nowhere and shoots at me. The guy's crazy!"

"What did you expect?" you say with a chuckle. "It's his yard you were searching for that relic of yours. You should have asked him if you could take a look."

"Are you not going to help me?" he asks with puppy eyes.

That's it, your weak spot, cute guys with puppy eyes. You immediately feel a pang in your stomach. You take a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. If he wanted to hurt you, he would have done it already, so what would it cost you to help him. You're a vet, not a doctor, but a flesh wound is nothing you can't treat.

"Okay" you say with a deep sigh. "Come in, but don't touch anything."

The dog is still wagging its tail, waiting for the stranger to pet him.

You show him the way to the bathroom and while you open the closet to look for disinfectant and bandage, you try to make a conversation.

"So, Peter, is that it?"

He nods, sitting on the toilet lid.

"You're some kind of cosplayer or what?" you inquire. "Is it Han Solo?"

"What?" he looks genuinely surprised.

"Your cosplay" you explain. "Is it Han Solo?"

"Cosplay?" he asks. "What is that?"

You frown again. Does he dress like that every day? Weird guy. You've finally found what you need and turn to patch him up. He has already removed his jacket and his shirt and you cough as you envision his perfect abs. Wow, you think, that's a guy who really works out. Cute, puppy eyes, nice abs - too bad the guy seems delusional.

"Hold still" you say as you disinfect the graze.

"You still didn't explain cosplay" he says with curiosity.

"Oh, it's just people dressing up as their favorite characters" you explain. "It's usually for fun, you don't do it to go to work or anything. I thought you were dressed as Han Solo. You know, the boots, the guns, the jacket. It kinda looks like Han Solo."

"I don't know who this Han Solo guy is but it's not cool to steal my outfit" he says, offended.

You raise an eyebrow. He doesn't know Han Solo? Come on! Where does this guy come from? You put the bandage around his chest and bind it with tape.

"Okay, all done."

You put your things back in the closet while he puts his clothes back on. That's when you notice the tape player hanging on his belt. A tape player? This guy must really be into vintage stuff because you can't even remember the last time you saw one of those.

"What is that?" you can't help asking.

"It's my tape player."

"Yes, I know what a tape player is. It's just - I haven't seen one in such a long time. I used to have one when I was a teen, the lid got broken and I had to bind it with an elastic" you remember with a fond smile. "I really loved that thing, but god bless Apple for making iPods!"

He smiles back at you and you feel it again, that pang in your stomach. It's time for him to leave because you really don't need to get attached to a guy you know nothing about and who clearly seems to have issues. But he takes his headphones from his belt and hands them to you.

"Wanna listen?"

_What does it hurt?_ you think as you put the headphones on your ears and he presses play. 80s music, but the good kind, the kind that you remember liking, the kind that you still listen to when it's a bad day and you want to cheer up. You smile again, catching his eyes. He takes your hand and starts swaying, pressing his hips into you. You feel a heat flushing your face and your whole body. His other hand is resting on your waist and you feel a sudden urge to place your face on his chest and close your eyes. It's been such a long time you haven't danced to a slow. Probably the last time was when you were a teen, and it feels so good to be touched. You didn't even realize how lonely you were before he danced with you.

You try to get a grip on your feelings. You know nothing of this guy and he turns you on way too much for your own good.

"Nice music!" you say, taking the headphones from your ears and handing them back to him. "But I don't think you should stay."

He looks at you with those puppy eyes again.

"I really like you, you know" he says. "You're nice and soft, and you smell good."

"Does this usually work on girls?" you say, trying to repress a chuckle.

"Well, no, not really" he answers with honesty. "I have to confess it doesn't work that well at all."

That's your downfall. Honest guys. He obviously knows he's a loser and he even admits it. You want to jump in his arms and stay there forever, kissing him. What is wrong with you? You don't normally fall for total strangers. You try to shake off the feeling but fail miserably, as you look at his lips with longing.

"Yeah, you're right" he says. "I should probably take off."

You find yourself telling him to wait, even offering him a drink. Maybe you can try to know more about him, maybe that way you won't feel so guilty about the fire he has awakened in you. He accepts and you both sit on the couch, the dog curled at your feet.

"Tell me more about you, Peter, because honestly, I have never met anyone like you."

"And I don't think you ever will" he says.

How's that for modesty, you think. Maybe you were wrong about him after all. Maybe he's a total jerk.

"Have you heard of the Guardians of the Galaxy?" he asks.

That's a good movie title, but you have to admit that you don't.

"Well, I'm one. I'm Star-Lord. I protect you people from the big bad."

This time, you can't repress it. You laugh wholeheartedly.

"That's a good one!" you exclaim after you manage to take a deep breath.

He looks offended again.

"You know you aren't alone in the universe, don't you?" he asks very seriously.

You nod. Of course, you know. Since the events in New York, everyone knows about other worlds and their dangers.

"I thought the Avengers protected us" you put in. "You know, Thor and Captain America and Iron Man. Never heard of Star-Lord before, and to be honest, you don't look like a superhero. No offense meant."

"Okay" he says. "I'm going to show you something. But it's only because I like you."

He gets up and heads for the door. You don't know if you should feel flattered but it obviously seems important to him. You grab a sweater and follow him outside, the dog in your tracks. It's really dark and you squint to see where you're going, but he takes a sphere in his knapsack and shakes it. It starts to glow with a white light and you hold your breath in wonder, starting to understand that there's maybe more about him than you thought at first. You walk through the corn fields after him and finally you see it, the dark shape of a space ship. You gape at it, stopping in your tracks.

"That's my ship" he says. "The Milano. Now, do you understand?"

You shake your head. In all honesty, you still don't understand.

"What are you?" you ask. "An alien or something?"

"No, I'm human just like you" he answers, and you don't know what to say anymore. You thought this would be an uneventful night and here you are standing in front of a spaceship.

"Do you want to visit?"

You step inside, still following him and you immediately notice the tape player on the deck.

"You know that they do more sophisticated things now" you chime in.

"No, I don't. I haven't been on Earth for 26 years."

That would explain it, of course. He presses play and the music fills the ship, not the same tape but still very good 80s music. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he takes you for another dance and it feels good, oh so good to be in his arms. You press your whole body against him, feeling his hands trail down your hips. You bury your face in his chest as he presses your butt close to him. You stay in his embrace for a while, unable to keep track of time, but the tape reaches its end and you raise your face to ask for more music. But as you do so his lips meet yours and you forget yourself in his soft kiss. He releases your mouth only to kiss you again, this time sucking at your lower lip, his hips bucking into your belly. Your hands find the nape of his neck as he trails kisses along your jaw and you tug at his hair when he comes back for your mouth, his tongue begging for entrance. You open your lips to let him in with a faint moan and feel your body pressed against the wall. You cannot think anymore, your body doesn't belong to you, it seems to react on its own, raising one leg to twine around his.

"Peter" you sigh softly when he lets go of your mouth.

Your eyes beg "take me", hoping he will understand what you cannot express with words and he picks you up in his arms effortlessly, carrying you to his bunk. He drops you on the bed and looks at you for a few seconds, biting his lips. It's almost as if he doesn't believe what's happening, but then he bends on you, kissing you again, his hands cupping your breasts over your clothes. Both your breaths are now faster and one of his hands finds your hot center, nesting there, caressing you over your jeans. Your small moans are muffled by his kisses and he hurriedly removes his clothes, kissing you in between each garment. You look at him, lusting for his chest, his belly, his thighs. His boxers cannot hide the state of excitement he is in and your hand reaches out to stroke his hard member over the fabric. His eyes widen, and he utters a deep throaty moan, encouraging you to plunge your hand in his underwear.

"Wait" he manages to say, his breath short. "Take off your clothes."

You wriggle out of your sweater and jeans and he sits you on top of him, his mouth leaving a burning trail from your neck to your breasts. He gets rid of your bra, licking your nipples while you rub yourself on his crotch, your panties completely soaked now. You want him now, inside of you, you want him like you have never wanted anyone, with an urgency you have never felt before, but he bides his time, caressing and kissing you everywhere he can, his hands both gentle and pressing, his mouth both soft and demanding. The taste of his skin feels unbelievably good, you reflect, as you lick him in return, your teeth gently biting his nipples.

He slides his hand between your bodies, his breath quickening suddenly as he fingers you, finding that sweet spot of yours, and you hold him close in your arms as your body ripples with waves of pleasure. It happened so quickly, you don't even remember reaching your orgasm that fast before, but he doesn't give you time to think about it. He lays you on your back, slides your panties off your legs and with a long thrust, buries his member inside you. You clutch at his shoulders as he thrusts again as far as he can go with a moan.

"Yes" you say, still high with your orgasm.

Your hands trail down his back as he thrusts and thrusts again, his cock rubbing and sliding not too slow but not too fast either, the perfect pace. You finally place them on his hips and help him go a little further. He looks at you, his blue eyes darkened with his desire as his body arches a bit higher and his thrusts become longer and deeper. You desperately fight off a second wave of pleasure but it hits you like the tide. Your walls clutch on him and he thrusts one last time before getting out and jerking off on your stomach.

He's out of breath and sweaty, his hair sticking to his forehead and you gently put it back in order, kissing him again with a satisfied smile. You wipe the sticky hot semen with your shirt and curl up against him, his arms wrapped around you, his face in your hair, his lips nuzzling at your neck. Both of you drift away, bodies entangled.

You wake up in the morning to find him looking at you. You smile at him dreamily as he leans to kiss you, murmuring: "Why did I even bother with those alien girls all the time?" before making sweet morning love to you.


End file.
